Revenge Sex (11 page)

Clay wouldn’t be able to resist her.

Chapter Twelve

Jessica felt a momentary panic when she
entered the Marriott’s lobby forty-five minutes later. It was a
riot of travelers, dragging roller cases, queuing to check in for a
weekend conference or getaway, or lining up at the restaurant’s
entrance. The hotel bar was on the other side of a waist-high row
of planter boxes filled with ferns and philodendrons.

The panic hit when she saw Clay through the
profusion of greenery, seated in a booth opposite Holt Montgomery.
Dammit. They were having a business meeting. Couldn’t they have
finished that at work? She growled under her breath. The good
thing, though, she’d at least picked the right Marriott.

She flashed on another idea. Originally she’d
planned a full frontal assault on his senses along the lines of
what she’d done on Wednesday. But what if she made him think she’d
found a man right here? Even better.

With an exaggerated sway of her hips, she
entered the bar without looking in their direction. The booths and
most of the tables were filled, yet it wasn’t particularly noisy
despite the number of people. The flickering candles were reflected
in the glossy black tile floor as she headed straight for the bar
and an empty seat on the end. Propping herself on the barstool, she
set her large purse—filled with all the necessities a girl needed
to totally
wow
her man—on the floor beside her. Then she
smiled at the bartender. Clay’s booth was visible in the mirror. He
was looking her way. Perfect.

“What can I get you?” In his twenties, the
bartender was tall, lean, and cute. He’d come to her ahead of the
two gentleman already signaling him.

“A chardonnay, please.”

“Any particular vintage?” He listed off an
impressive quantity.

The house wine, she wanted to say because she
was thrifty by nature, but the occasion called for something
special. “What would you recommend?”

“The Wente is a good bet. They’re a local
winery over in Livermore.”

“I’ll try that one.”

“Great.” He gave her a smile as he left to
fill her order.

Her gaze drifted to the reflection in the
mirror behind the bar. Clay nursed a tall mug of beer. Without his
suit jacket, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, his tie missing, and
his dress shirt undone a couple of buttons. She drank in the sight
of him in his casual repose. Never had there been a sexier CFO.

Holt talked
at him animatedly, his hands cutting through the air. In his early
fifties, the CEO was an exceptionally good-looking man, with thick
wiry gray hair and gray eyes that saw right through you if you were
trying to feed him a load of bull. Though not as tall as Clay, he
cut a commanding figure in a boardroom, and she had a lot of
respect for him. But she was ready for him to take his leave.

“Here you go.” The bartender waited for her
to try the wine. After she sipped, he tipped his head at her.
“Good?”

“Great.” She wasn’t a connoisseur, but it was
smooth and mellow.

He gave her a thumbs-up, then backed off as
one of the guys he’d been ignoring snapped his fingers.

Twenty-something, or a man like Clay, who was
seasoned, successful, handsome as the devil? Definitely Clay. Or
someone like Holt Montgomery. Older men were so much sexier. Why
Ruby had given Bradley the time of day was a mystery to her.

Not that it mattered. Ruby had
offered
Jessica a chance she’d never dreamed of having.
She wasn’t a home wrecker, but Ruby had wrecked her own home.
Jessica intended to pick up the pieces.

“Is this seat taken?”

She startled, holding the stem of the
wineglass too tightly and sloshing a few drops over the rim. “No,”
she answered the man after recovering.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She’d been concentrating on Clay and hadn’t
realized anyone was near until the man had spoken. “You didn’t,”
she said, smiling. “In fact, I’ve been saving that chair for you.”
He was exactly her type.

He raised a brow.

Okay, maybe that was going too far. She
didn’t know how to flirt, especially with an attractive man in his
midforties who wore a business suit as if it were a second skin.
Add to it the short dark hair with a smattering of gray just like
Clay’s, well, in a word, he was exactly what she was looking
for.

And she’d blown it by being too forward.
“Sorry,” she said. “That just popped out. I wasn’t saving it, so
feel free.”

He settled onto the barstool. “My lucky day
then.”

Okay, that was a bit flirty. Maybe she hadn’t
blown it after all. She glanced in the mirror. Holt was still
talking, but Clay was watching her.

Warmth spread through her belly. She stuck
out her hand. “I’m Linda.”

He shook with a firm grip, warm skin, dry
palms, no wedding ring. “Mitch.”

Mitch sounded real. She didn’t know why she’d
given him her friend’s name. “Here on business?”

“Conference. What about you?”

Trying to pick up a man so I can excite my
boss out of his mind.
“Purely pleasure.” She smiled. Then she
thought of another game. “Actually business
and
pleasure.”

He raised a brow again. “That deserves
explanation.”

“Well...” She glanced around, making sure no
one was listening, then turned her gaze back to Clay in the mirror.
He was throwing a few bills on the table. Holt pushed them back and
threw down a few of his own, then rose from the booth.

Clay was leaving, dammit. Then Holt gave a
mock salute and exited. Clay stayed right where he was. And looked
at her. Had he figured out she could see him in the mirror?

“Well,” she went on, lowering her voice. “I’m
a working girl.”

“What kind of work?” Mitch asked solemnly, as
if he’d never heard the term.

“Wor-
king
,” she enunciated clearly,
then noticed the sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Ah,” he said, then signaled the bartender.
“I think I need a drink for this discussion.”

The young man was there in an instant.
Because of her, she wondered? “Yes, sir?”

“House scotch on the rocks.”

Ooh, she liked him. Frugal. Jessica sipped
her wine.

“All right, tell me more,” Mitch said after
the bartender
left to make his drink
.

“What would you like to know?”

“Do you come here often?”

“I make the rounds.” She crossed her legs. He
watched the movement.

“How many people are you with in one
night?”

“Depends.”

They paused as the bartender set his scotch
on the counter. The young man eyed her speculatively before heading
to the other end of the bar, where a waitress was waving at
him.

“Cheers.” Mitch tipped his glass to her.
“Okay, depends on what?”

“On how much time a man wants to spend.” So
far she hadn’t had anywhere near enough time with Clay. She wanted
hours, and she wanted them tonight.

Mitch jiggled the ice in his glass. “Do you
do
anything
?”

“Well, yeah. I guess. Like what?”

“Another woman?”

She laughed. “Not
that
anything.”

His mouth quirked in a half smile. “How about
two men at once?”

She almost gaped, wondering if he was egging
her on. “Not
at
the same time, if you know what I mean. But
together in the same bed.” She thought of Clay. And Vince. One
doing this, the other doing that. Her skin flushed with the heat of
her imagination.

Seeing it, Mitch’s eyes glittered like jewels
in the flicker of a nearby candle. “And what particular acts do you
do?”

“Um, well.” She sat up straight. “No animals
or vegetables.”

He laughed out loud, catching the attention
of the bartender, a couple of men at the bar. And Clay. She was
sure he’d drained more than half the beer he’d been merely nursing
earlier.

“That certainly limits things,” Mitch said,
then sipped his scotch. “No animals, vegetables, or DP?”

“DP?” she asked.

He leaned in close. “Dual penetration.”

“
Ohh
,” she said, elongating the
word.

“You really should learn the appropriate
terminology for your trade.”

“I’m very new at it.”

“Lost your regular job?” He crunched an ice
cube.

“Lost my sugar daddy.” See, she did know some
terminology. “But I’ve found someone who’s helping me out.”

“Helping you?” He had a nice smile, and he
was certainly enjoying this, though she didn’t believe for a minute
that he was buying anything she said.

“Yes. He’s my protection. He sits in the bar,
watches to make sure I’m okay, has the room all ready, then I give
him the money when I come back down.” Oh, Clay would love that
role.

Mitch pulled back. “All of it?”

“He takes 25 percent and gives me the
rest.”

“Wow. Like an agent.”

“Exactly.”

“Where is he now?”

“The guy in that booth over there.” She
pointed in the mirror.

Mitch turned and looked directly at Clay. “He
seems like an ordinary business man.”

She looked at Clay, too, meeting his
penetrating gaze for the first time. “I’d call him the CFO, since
he helps me take care of the money aspect.”

“Ah,” Mitch said again, then drained his
drink. “Well, this has been extremely interesting. I’m meeting a
client for dinner.” He raised that cocky brow of his again.
“Perhaps you’ll be here later.”

She smiled, tipped her head coquettishly.
“You never know.”

Then Mitch wended through a few tables and
hit the lobby floor, heading back toward the bank of elevators.

That was easy. There hadn’t even been an
awkward moment where she’d had to get rid of him. Lucky girl. After
a last sip of wine, Jessica picked up her purse, winked at the
bartender, then went straight to Clay’s table, sidling in beside
him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

She sighed. “I’m picking up a man.”

“Liar,” he said mildly.

“I am not. But here’s the problem. He’s
staying at some dumpy motel down the street, and I don’t want to go
there. So I need a room.”

“Jessica,” he started.

She leaned in close. It was a bold gambit,
but this felt like her one-and-only chance, and she was willing to
do anything. “Isn’t this what you like your women to do? Be with
other men. Then come back to you.” She waited a beat, let it sink
in, until his nostrils flared, and she knew she had him. “Give me
your key. I want to use your room.”

He swallowed. She’d rendered him speechless.
But then he pulled a card key from his shirt pocket. She took it
and slid him Holt’s drink napkin. “Write the room number on here.
I’ll call you when I’m done.” She leaned close, her lips almost
touching his cheek. “Then you can come up and fuck me.” She licked
the shell of his ear. “I
f I’
ve got enough
energy left over for you.” She bit his lobe, climbed out of the
booth with both the key and the napkin and sashayed across the
bar.

When she glanced back at him from the
entrance, she was sure the man was shell-shocked.

* * * * *

She’d been so close, Clay could smell her
arousal on her. Jessica never sashayed. His heart did a slow roll
in his chest simply watching. It had taken nothing more than that
and her husky voice to enslave him.

He’d been going
crazy
the last forty-eight hours, wanting her, yet telling himself it was
crazy. Her scent clung to his clothes, lingered in his office,
drove him absolutely mad.

It had never been like this
with Ruby. Sexy, hot, exceptionally fun, yes, but
not
frantic, not raging lust. His pulse raced. He could actually feel
his heart beating against his chest. His balls ached. His cock
throbbed. He needed, wanted, could think of nothing else. It had
been good with Ruby, but this was completely explosive.

As he waited, he’d almost finished the second
beer he’d ordered. He wasn’t drunk on alcohol. He was drunk on her.
How did she know where he was staying? He’d told no one but
Holt.

What the fuck did it matter? She was here.
Upstairs. With the guy she’d picked up right there at the bar. He
honestly couldn’t believe it of Jessica.

But then he’d never have figured her for
having a fuck buddy either.

So much for the professional distance he’d
wanted to maintain. He couldn’t have walked away even if he knew
this was the biggest mistake of his life, which it very well could
be. Everything was wrong. It didn’t matter one goddamn bit that
this was what Ruby had told him to do. Have a fling. Pay her back.
A little revenge sex.

He’d seen Jessica the moment she entered the
bar. The lady in black. He’d had to do a double take; it was a good
thing Holt hadn’t noticed.

Christ, he’d gotten hard right then. He
watched her flirt with the bartender, his heart pounding in his
chest, his blood thick in his veins. There was a potent mix of
desire, jealousy, and need. It was never just one thing, wanting
her to fuck. It was about all the other emotions that were rolled
into it, hoping she wouldn’t do it, praying she would, needing to
bury his face between her legs. All this crazy stuff that drove him
absolutely mad until all he could think about was taking her,
claiming her. It was elemental, like stags fighting, yet it was
humbling as he was forced to wait. The insane concoction of
emotions exploded in desire and need and unbelievable sex.

He’d enjoyed sex with Ruby. But Christ, he
needed
it with Jessica. He couldn’t live without it. Not
through this night, not through this moment.

Then his phone rang. He knew it was her
without even looking.

Chapter Thirteen